


Roommates to Bedfellows

by parachim



Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: College, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dorms, Free Planets Alliance Officer Academy, Gender-neutral Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Other, Reader-Insert, Roommates, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:59:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parachim/pseuds/parachim
Summary: You (our gender ambiguous reader) are Yang Wen-li's roommate at the Free Planets Alliance Officer Academy.  After you catch a stomach bug, he tends to you as you recover.
Relationships: Yang Wenli/Reader, yang wenli/reader-insert
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Roommates to Bedfellows

You knock weakly on the door to your dorm. You have your keys in your bag but right now you’re using all your energy to just keep standing up. It was hard enough for you to walk down the hall while battling wave after wave of nausea.

The door opens and you’re relieved that Yang is inside to let you in. All you want to do right now is lie down and try to keep yourself together. The worst of your illness has passed, but you’re still exhausted from the ordeal.

Your roommate gives you a concerned look as you enter the room. “Hey, you don’t look too great.”

You make it to your bed, not even bothering to take your shoes off first.

“There was some sort of food poisoning outbreak from the cafeteria. Didn’t you see the message?”

“You know I don’t read any of the official campus messages.”

“Well, a bunch of people have it. They said not to go to the campus clinic unless you think you’re having severe dehydration symptoms.”

“Classic. They get you sick and then don’t even want to have to stick an IV in you.”

You laugh in response, but then regret it when it causes the stabbing pain in your stomach to intensify.

“Did you know that during the Crimean War more soldiers died of cholera than from combat? You think maybe a military academy could’ve learned from that.”

“Yang, I doubt that most of the school administrators could even tell you which planet the Crimean War happened on. It’s amazing that you even know that.” You sift through the contents of the desk that is just within reach of your bed, looking for anything that could help with your illness.

“Well, I did get to take some classes before they closed up the War History department.”

You find a bottle of painkillers. It contains a handful of heavy-duty pills left over from a shoulder injury you acquired in basic training. The pills are so large that you wouldn’t be able to swallow them without water even when you weren’t feeling so sick at the stomach.

“Yang, I’m sorry to have to ask you to do this, but could you go get me a bottle of water or something? I don’t think I could make it to the vending machine and back without having to lie down on the ground.”

“Uh, sure,” he replies. “Hold on.” 

He gets up and leaves the room. You roll onto your back and close your eyes. In basic training they tell you you’re supposed to center yourself on the pain, to focus on it and let it take up your whole mind. You’re supposed to be able to control it—chip away at it—until it just becomes background noise. But it’s too hard to focus on anything. You feel a swirling, sinking feeling as the pain mixes with nausea. It’s impossible to anchor yourself to one sensation, so you just have to endure it all until either your body fights it off or the medicine can dull your senses.

You hear Yang open the door and you open your eyes to look at him.

“I got you a bottle of tea.”

“Oh, thank you.” You reach out to take it but he holds it just out of reach.

“You’ll have to sit up to drink it. I don’t trust myself to remember much from first aid if you start to choke.”

“I don’t think I can sit up right now. I feel dizzy just laying here.”

“Let me help you.” He sits on the edge of the bed and gently pulls you up into a sitting position. You take the bottle from him and as your fingers touch his you’re struck by how soft they feel. You can’t imagine them ever becoming calloused from firing a gun. He wasn’t the best roommate—he never made his own bed and often accumulated enough empty drink bottles at a time that he could fill a whole trash bag when he finally resolved to clean them up—but at least he was never loud or actively annoying.

You manage to swallow the pill with a little effort and drink some extra tea in an attempt to keep yourself hydrated. You close your eyes again but instead of falling back on your pillow you lean into him. You feel him tense momentarily before relaxing.

“I’m sorry… I’m just chilled, and you’re so warm,” you confess to him.

You think he’ll pull away any second now. It’s not like there have been any signs of your relationship being remotely romantic; you just share the same dorm room as him. Occasionally you may have let your gaze linger a little too long on him while he was changing his clothes, or caught yourself admiring his profile, but you’d never acted on the thoughts that came along with those glances. Other than the standard exchange of pleasantries you seldom talk to one another, but right now he lets you nuzzle into the crook of his neck before pulling the blankets up over you both.

“I mean,” he says, “you did do me a favor when you helped keep me company and brought me that electrolyte drink when I was glued to the toilet hungover.”

“I had forgotten all about that. That was at the very beginning of the semester. Weren’t you a little too senior to be pulling such a freshman move like that?”

“That was right after I discovered they had dissolved the War History program. I only found out when I went to register for classes and everything I planned on taking was removed from the system. I switched into strategic studies after that, which is the closest to history but not really what I wanted. But between that and dropping out and having to foot the bill for my tuition I didn't really have any choice in the matter.”

“Did I ever tell you I was originally a different major before they closed that department as well?”

“No, I always thought you were a foreign affairs major.”

You shake your head. “Foreign affairs sucks. It’s basically just a bunch of economy classes since they know the only people you’re going to be working with are from Phezzan, for keeping trade channels open. There aren’t even any language classes offered since everyone in Phezzan learns English.” 

You flick your eyes open and look at Yang’s face. He has nice features but you realize you don’t recall him ever bringing a date around. 

“In fact,” you continue, “I only picked that because it was the next closest thing to archaeology.”

“I didn’t even know there was an archaeology department here.”

“I think it only managed to last so long because the deans forgot about it too. It must’ve come up in some budget meeting because they got rid of it my second year in.”

“Why would a military university even have that major? I mean,” Yang begins, attempting to backtrack, “I’m not saying it’s stupid or anything—that’s how everyone felt about history too—but I don’t see how they would’ve found it valuable in the first place.”

“Humanity has been around for a long time and has had a lot of time to invent things that have since been forgotten. If you manage to find just the right cache of information somewhere you might have the blueprints for a technology that the Galactic Empire doesn’t have. That gives you an edge.”

“Do you really think there are such valuable things that have just been forgotten?”

“They were able to make some new cyphers based on texts from recovered languages. A code that doesn’t follow any linguistic norms that the Empire knows about is pretty hard to break.” You can feel the pain in your gut beginning to subside now as the medicine takes its effect. You know you could lay down now without being delirious from pain, but instead you decide to snuggle closer to Yang.

“But really,” you continue, “other than that I don’t think they ever found anything of much technological use. It was mostly about finding artifacts from the early Alliance to put into museums and spur on patriotism. I think there really are discoveries out there to be made from past societies, but the funding just isn’t in place to support the exploration process.” 

Yang frowns. “It seems like the FPA doesn’t fund much of anything outside of fleet maintenance and expansion.”

“Right? How is it that we’ve managed space flight and the ability to colonize planets but we can’t even do anything about a stomach virus? Why is it that we have artificial limbs but burn victims can’t get artificial skin? I don’t think that it’s that we don’t have the technology to solve the problem, but that we just don’t put the man hours into it.”

“If we weren’t so focused on destroying each other might we actually benefit all of humankind?” Yang asks, only half joking.

You smile grimly. “Isn’t it traitorous to even think such a thing?” You pull him down so that you’re both lying down side by side. You aren’t feeling chilled anymore but it’s comforting to cuddle against him nevertheless.

“Yang, you know how sometimes during battles, fleet captains will do an uncalculated warp and just take their chances going into null space?”

“Vaguely. People really only talk about it as a betrayal to the Alliance. I guess they’re mad that people would rather try to save themselves instead of letting the FPA sift through the wreckage for scrap.”

“Some of those people must have been able to find habitable planets eventually, right?”

“It seems plausible. Probably less than one in a hundred would have even temporary success, but it's not nothing either.”

“Those ships could have hundreds or thousands of survivors—a lot of them driven, educated people who only entered the military because that was the best option for them. But once they’re free from service they could dedicate themselves to developing other technologies.” 

“You think there are independent colonies somewhere out there that have actually dedicated themselves to developing technology that’s useful for things other than murder?”

“I think, if they even existed in the first place, a lot of those societies would have fallen; it’s not like they traveled with any technology for proper terraforming. But if the right group found just the right planet then maybe they could have made it work.” The medicine you took must have some effect to lower your inhibition as well as pain, since you never talk about this sort of thing with anyone. It’s near treasonous to even suggest that there may be better ways of life out there.

Yang looks up at the ceiling, his face tensed in thought. “Maybe. At this point it’s hard to even imagine that humankind could accept peace after being so long at war.”

“We can only hope that one day it will be a possibility. It’s either that or we completely destroy ourselves.”

At that, you doze off into a light sleep, accepting the reprieve from your illness that the medicine has granted you. When you wake up some time later you’re surprised to see Yang still laying beside you, perfectly content to have your arms wrapped around him.

“Aren’t you worried about passing your finals?” You don’t want to complain about him being next to you, but you don’t want to ruin his academic career either. It’s an open secret that he only barely passes most of his classes. In all your time as roommates you have seen him finish more crossword puzzles than even begin his own homework.

“It’s not like I was planning on doing any studying today anyway. Today is a good day for a nap.”

“What if I get you sick though? You definitely won’t pass if you miss your exams.”

“I’m not worried about that. Besides, you’re starting to feel better, right?”

It’s at this moment that you realize you have woken up because the pain meds are wearing off, and you feel your stomach cramping again. “I need another pill. I don’t think this is something I’ll get over quickly.”

He reaches over and hands you the pill bottle along with the tea, helping you sit up again to drink.

“Hey, at least you don’t have dysentery.”

“You know just what to say to cheer me up, huh? But yeah, I guess I am glad that I will die in the cold vacuum of space one day instead of shitting myself to death in some foxhole.”

“That’s the spirit!”

You laugh, only to remember how much your body does not want you moving right now. You lay back down slowly, trying to convince your body to not cramp up in pain. When the worst of it passes, you cuddle back up to Yang with the curve of your back nestled against his chest.

“Yang, you don’t have to stay here just to comfort me. I’ll be okay.”

“You don’t want me here?”

“That’s not what I meant.” You pause, thinking what to say next. “You only have to stay if you want to.”

He cuddles closer to you, wrapping an arm around your chest. “I do want to be here with you. I like your company. I like you.”

“If you felt that way about me you could’ve said something sooner.”

“I hadn’t really thought too much about it. And having feelings for your roommate is kind of taboo, especially if they don’t reciprocate.”

“You do think about your crushes though, right? It’s not like you’re so busy that you don’t have time to daydream.”

“It’s not like I don’t have crushes–” 

“Oh yeah? Anyone I know?” you tease.

“No—I mean, I guess you could’ve had classes with some of them. But no one I’ve brought around. That is, well, other than you.” You can tell from his stammering that he’s beginning to get flustered.

You squirm slightly, pushing the blankets down, the flush of his skin making it too warm under the covers.

“Yang?”

“What?”

“Do you… have a boner right now?”

He is silent for a long moment. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

You consider sitting up and helping him with it. But the idea of any amount of activity makes your stomach cramp up again. You are feeling better than earlier, but not enough that you can do much more than lie still and talk.

“Do you want to take care of it? I would do it for you if I were feeling less ill.”

“That’s kind of… well it’s…” he hesitates.

“It’s not like I haven’t heard you do it before.”

“I thought you were asleep then!”

“You’re louder than you think, and it’s not like this room is very big.”

“Am I that loud?” He sounds somewhat mortified at this revelation.

“Sometimes. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like you were doing it on purpose,” you reassure him. “If you want to get yourself off now it’s fine. I think it’s kind of hot, honestly, so there’s no reason for you to be self-conscious about it.”

He considers your proposal for a time, the horny part of his brain finally winning out over his sense of propriety as he pushes down the covers and slips off his pants and underwear. You turn to lay on your back so that you can look at him.

He is undeniably erect and likely has been for some time with the amount of precum dripping down the shaft. He grasps the base with his hand and pumps up and down with gradually increasing speed, each gesture completed with his thumb brushing over the head. He moans with his mouth half-open, at first too conscious of his volume to make much noise, but his inhibitions erode with each stroke as he restrains himself less.

When his pace quickens to its peak you lean over to him, kissing his lips. Hurriedly, he pulls up his shirt as his body tenses and he finishes, making a mess on his stomach. He breathes deeply as he recovers, arms limp at his sides.

Eventually, he sits up to grab a tissue to clean himself with before laying back down next to you. “That probably wasn’t very interesting to watch.”

“Oh, on the contrary. It was much better than just listening. I’m just sorry that I wasn’t up to doing more.”

“Maybe next time then?” It is now that he has finally become aware enough of his surroundings to notice that your own hand has slid down your pants, making deliberate motions. “Or maybe I could help you right now?” he offers.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” You strip off your pants and underwear and then part your legs, wrapping the one nearest to him around his body. He brings his hand between your legs with the slight hesitancy that goes hand-in-hand with the first overtures of intimacy. 

He’s tentative at first—figuring out where you like to be touched the most, the ideal angle for his hand, the proper speed—but with some experimenting he finds the right rhythm for you to lose yourself to the sensation of his touch.

With the pace established, he kisses you. Softly at first, as if he is still worried that you might change your mind. But as you return his kisses he grows more passionate, parting your lips to meet his tongue to yours.

You buck against his hand, the beginnings of your climax washing through you. As your body grinds beneath him, he continues to work at you with his hand, drawing the pleasure out of you. When you are finally spent he pulls away his hand and kisses the corner of your lips. You cuddle in each other’s arms, your stomach pain almost completely subsided. 

“So,” you begin, finally breaking the silence, “next school year instead of just going with a random roommate assignment, why don’t we apply to share a dorm together?”

“That sounds like a great idea,” he replies, smiling, and kisses you once more.

**Author's Note:**

> This was based off of information from the books and the OVA. If this contradicts anything from DNT that's because I haven't watched it. 
> 
> My rational for why the dormmate situation isn't segregated by gender (and thus the reader can be any gender) is the FPA has done this to claim gender equality in their military. It's like the shower scene from Starship Troopers (1997).


End file.
